


Dressup

by somehowunbroken



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-24
Updated: 2011-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-20 16:44:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m man enough to wear a skirt in public, Danny,” Steve drawls out with the lazy confidence of a man who’s pretty sure he can pull it off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dressup

The new governor is all about fostering cooperation between Five-0 and HPD, and since they’re pretty much trying to play nicely with the man until he’s made up his mind about them, the members of the task force go along with it as well as they can. They go to the seminars (well, Chin goes), they accept a liaison officer (it’s not their fault if the man refuses to ride along), and they attend the functions that the governor asks them to attend. Mostly this is things like barbecues and family pig roasts and what have you, so it’s not like it’s anything they wouldn’t enjoy.

Until now, of course.

“A Halloween party,” Danny says, voice flat as he stares at his email. “The governor wants us to go to a-”

He’s cut off by a whoop and a laugh from across the office, and glances out the window to see Kono and Jenna give each other a high-five. He doesn’t even want to know what they’re planning, mostly because he’s pretty sure that if he knew, he’d have to stop it before it got someone hurt, and getting between Kono and her plans is never a good idea.

They catch a break in their case a few minutes later, and it’s a relatively short firefight, an intense interrogation involving more C4 than Danny’s strictly comfortable thinking about, and two solid hours of paperwork later before Danny thinks to bring it up again.

“Did you get the governor’s email earlier?” he asks Steve as they settle into the couch, reheated lasagna from the batch Steve made last week on the coffee table. Danny leans forward to dish it out as Steve cuts into the garlic bread.

“Some sort of thing with HPD,” Steve replies. “I didn’t get past the subject line before Oris pulled his rabbit trick.”

“It’s so much worse than whatever you’re thinking it is,” Danny informs him, dropping a plate into Steve’s lap and holding his own out for some bread. “They’re hosting some sort of Halloween party for officers and significant others, and we are cordially ordered to go.”

Steve takes a bite of lasagna and dunks his bread into the messy cheese-and-sauce mixture on his plate before answering. “So, what, we go, we have a few drinks-”

“Halloween party,” Danny reiterates, and then, since it doesn’t seem to be getting through, elaborates. “Costumes, Steve. We have to go in costume.”

Steve actually freezes at that, bread halfway to his open mouth. “Costumes?”

“Costumes,” Danny confirms. “And before you get any bright ideas, we’re not doing a two-person-in-one-costume thing, okay, I am not spending the evening bent in half playing a horse’s ass.”

Steve’s mouth is curved in a way that says he’ll be thinking it if not mentioning it, so Danny just rolls his eyes and turns the television on, finding a show about whales and plankton and the circle of life or something. They’ll probably just end up going as jailbirds or something – nothing like a cop’s sense of humor, Danny thinks wryly. They probably won’t be the only ones there in orange jumpsuits.

Steve lets it go for an entire twelve minutes, which is about how long it takes him to finish his food and start in on his beer. “We could go as superheroes,” he suggests. Danny raises an eyebrow.

“That’ll really smooth things over with HPD, positioning ourselves like that,” he says dryly.

“Criminals?”

“Us and everyone else in there.”

“Doctors,” Steve suggests, then winces. “Never mind, not doctors.” Danny raises an eyebrow again, but doesn’t comment. Steve goes on. “Angel and devil?”

“The sad part is, I know these are serious suggestions,” Danny sighs. “Look, babe, I really feel like this is something we shouldn’t waste too much time and energy on, okay? We’ll just – we’ll wear our uniforms or something. We don’t usually, so it’ll be _like_ wearing costumes, except less awkward.”

“Go as ourselves?” Steve’s disappointed face would be hilarious if it didn’t indicate that he was actually excited about dressing up all of a sudden. “That’s… kind of boring, Danny.”

“Sure, yeah, we’ll go as ourselves,” Danny agrees. “If we really want to switch it up, we can go as our off-work personas. I’ll ditch the tie, and you can follow me around like a puppy.”

“Woof,” Steve says sarcastically. Danny grins.

“Seriously, you’re worse than Rachel ever was,” he tells Steve, settling comfortably into the monologue he’s directed at Steve countless times. It’s one of those things he doesn’t mind, not really, but feels the need to needle about anyway. “Between the following and the nagging-”

“I don’t nag,” Steve protests.

“‘Eat better, Danny. Pick up your socks, Danny. If you finish the milk, Danny, put milk on the shopping list, or I won’t know to get more-’”

Steve narrows his eyes. “So, what, you think I’m the wife in this relationship?”

“You’re totally the wife,” Danny informs him. “Having had one before, I can say with some degree of certainty that you fill most of the traditional wifely duties. You cook, you clean, you do the grocery shopping, you figure out what we’re doing in our downtime, you let me fuck you pretty regularly but claim a headache at least one out of every four times I start something-”

“You actually keep track well enough to know the statistics,” Steve interjects. He doesn’t sound riled up by Danny’s comparison. In fact, he sounds kind of… amused. “Fine, you want to go as husband and wife, we’ll go as husband and wife.”

“You’re actually going along with this?” Danny leans forward with a grin. “What, are you gonna borrow some of Mary’s old stuff, see if you can put eyeshadow on without poking your eyes out, that sort of thing?”

Steve smiles and leans back into the couch. “I’m man enough to wear a skirt in public, Danny,” he drawls out with the lazy confidence of a man who’s pretty sure he can pull it off, and hey, fuck him very much, he’s probably right.

Danny snorts instead of admitting it. “You do this, I’m taking pictures,” he warns Steve.

Steve just grins wider.

-0-

Halloween falls on a Tuesday, so the party is held the Friday before. Danny doesn’t have to do much to get ready – he changes into a crisp white shirt and a pair of pressed black slacks, but it’s not all that different from what he wears on a day-to-day basis, not really. He leaves the top two buttons of his shirt open and slicks his hair back and pokes his head out of the bathroom. “I’m ready when you are,” he says.

“Okay,” Steve’s voice replies from the closet. He’s been in there at least an hour, and Danny’s seen several bags going in there in the weeks since they’d decided on their costumes. Kono had shown up about forty minutes ago, too, with yet another bag, and she’d just grinned evilly at Danny before disappearing into the closet with Steve.

There’s some low murmuring in the closet, and then Kono calls, “We’re going to need about fifteen more minutes, Danny. Go ahead downstairs , and we’ll be down when we’re done, okay?”

“Um,” Danny replies, wondering what the hell, exactly, Steve is trying to pull off with his costume, because clearly it’s more involved than squeezing into one of Mary’s miniskirts and tube tops. “I’ll just be downstairs, I guess.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Steve promises. There’s a thumping sound, like something falling over, and then a pause. “Twenty, tops.”

“Twenty, right,” Danny sighs, heading down the stairs. He’s had a wife before. He knows it’ll be at least forty-five before he sees Steve.

Exactly twenty minutes later, Danny’s flipping between SportsCenter and a rerun of MythBusters when he hears someone coming down the stairs. Kono looks far, far too pleased with herself. She’s dressed as a surfer, which surprises Danny exactly not at all, board shorts to her knees and rash guard tight on her frame. She stops by the couch and reaches out to pat Danny on the arm.

“You’re going to be fashionably late,” she informs him cheerily, and Danny glances at his watch and frowns. If they leave within the next three minutes, they’ll be able to make it in time without breaking too many speed limits. He opens his mouth to say so, but Kono keeps talking. “Chin and I will stall for you, okay? Just try to actually make it to the party.”

And then she’s gone, leaving a very confused Danny standing in her wake.

“Right,” he mutters, turning back to the television.

“I’m ready,” Steve says from the top of the stairs, and yeah, Kono’s got no idea what she’s talking about, they’ll be perfectly on time. “Got the camera on hand?”

“Oh yeah,” Danny smirks, clicking to the app on his phone. “You gonna model for me, McGarrett?”

There’s a snort from the top of the stairs, and then there’s the sound of high heels walking down the stairs. Steve appears bit by bit, and the hand holding the phone up drops a little more with each step Steve takes down the stairs.

“Well?” Steve asks when he reaches the bottom and turns to face Danny. “I had to get the dress custom-made, but they actually had the shoes in my size. Kono helped me get into everything.” He pauses and shrugs. “How do I look?”

Danny literally cannot come up with anything. He’s too busy focusing on the details of Steve’s costume, far too real to actually be costume-grade. The dress is black, made of a slightly shiny sort of material with lace over the top. The dress itself ends just above Steve’s pecs, but the lace continues, curving up to curl around his neck. It goes all the way down his arms, too, ending at his wrists, and it covers the tattoos on Steve’s shoulders without obscuring them completely. The skirt ends about eight inches above Steve’s knees, showing a good amount of cleanly-shaved skin before the boots start - a pair of lace-up knee-high boots made of soft-looking black leather, and they’re heels, probably about six inches if Danny were to guess.

He’s got makeup on, too, something that makes his skin look softer and smoother. There’s eyeliner smudged around his eyes, soft shadow playing up the color, and some sort of gloss shining on his lips. There’s something in his hair, something making it stay in that ruffled look, like someone has had their hands in Steve’s hair for hours.

“Turn around,” Danny gets out, and Steve complies, turning effortlessly in the heels to expose his back to Danny. The lace dips down low enough for Danny to see a good bit of the tattoo across Steve’s lower back.

Steve turns back to face Danny after a minute – or a year, Danny’s not sure. He raises an eyebrow, a silent question, and Danny tries to clear his throat, he really does, but it sounds like he’s choking.

“Lace,” he manages. “I never pictured you as the lace type, babe.”

Steve’s smirk is instantaneous. “I’m wearing matching panties,” he practically purrs, and that’s it, that’s fucking it, Danny is dragging him back upstairs right now and peeling him out of that, fuck the party-

But Steve laughs when Danny strides towards him, walking towards the front door as easily as he would in his combat boots. “Party, Danno,” he singsongs. “Kono will kill us both if we mess up my makeup before we even get there.”

-0-

The party is fucking torture.

Steve’s costume is a huge hit, and he spends a good amount of time just strutting around in those damn boots and fluttering his even-longer-than-normal eyelashes. The heels on them are huge, and it takes the height difference between the two of them from slightly embarrassing to downright ridiculous. The only thing that keeps Danny from gritting his teeth over the whole situation – well, mostly, anyway – is that Steve apparently keeps forgetting that he’s half a foot taller, and he walks into a few doorframes.

“You got a hot wife, Williams,” yet another smartassed sergeant calls, a little less than drunk but a lot more than sober. People have been leering at Steve since they walked in the door almost two hours ago, and this guy is no different. He’s eyeing Steve up and down while Steve smiles and ducks his head like he would if it were an actual compliment. “Bet you never thought you’d land a pretty one like this, huh?”

“Okay, that is it,” Danny says to nobody in particular, standing from his chair and making his way across the room to where Steve’s standing, talking to one of the guys from Dispatch. Danny walks up beside him and slips an arm around Steve’s waist, and Steve gives him a distracted smile before turning back to the guy.

“I’m ready to go, _honey_ ,” Danny says, sugary-sweet, and he squeezes the bit of hip he’s got under his hand. “I’ll get the car. Meet me outside in five, okay?”

“I’m having fun, Danno,” Steve pouts. “We’re leaving already?”

“I had a long day at the office, dear,” Danny replies, “and I’d like to get home and rest for a bit before bed. If you don’t mind, that is.”

Steve knows all about Danny’s long day; Steve was the cause of most of the things that made the day long. He drops the act for a second, concern flashing across his face before he pulls it together and slips back into the role he’s decided to play. He smiles almost adoringly down at Danny. “Of course.”

Danny squeezes his hip again and heads outside to pull the Camaro around to the entrance. He gets out at the curb and helps Steve into the car, ever the fucking gentleman, and he’s peeling away from the curb less than fifteen seconds later.

“Impatient much?” Steve laughs from the passenger’s seat. Danny growls, actually growls, and reaches over for Steve’s hand, dragging it across the center console and pressing it to the tent in his pants that’s been present since Steve walked down the stairs at home.

“We are going home,” Danny says in the calmest voice he can muster, “and I am stripping you out of that dress and fucking you into next week, okay, that’s what’s going to happen, because watching everyone in there hit on you made me a little crazy.”

“They were just joking,” Steve laughs, taking his hand back. “They were messing with you. With both of us.”

“I do not care,” Danny informs him. “I really, really do not care if they were fucking with my head or actually offering to blow you right there in the party, Steven, I do not. I care that everyone else hit on you tonight and I refrained, okay, I kept my hands and my mouth to myself, but now we are going home and I’m going to put my hands and my mouth all over you. Are we clear?”

Steve is absolutely silent, but when Danny glances over, Steve is pressing his palm to the front of his dress. It’s an absolutely filthy picture, Steve hard against the silky fabric, stretching the lace even more tightly across his crotch. Danny just groans and drives a little faster.

Making it to the bedroom is a fucking chore, but somehow Danny manages; Steve has him mostly undressed by that point, shirt somewhere in the living room and pants undone. Steve is still in that dress, that fucking ridiculous dress, and Danny reaches up as Steve’s calves hit the bed, dragging the zipper down inch by inch.

“Danny,” Steve groans, but Danny just glares at him for a moment, brushing the fingers of his free hand against the newly-exposed skin of Steve’s back, before he pulls the zipper the further down.

“Wouldn’t want to tear your pretty dress, Steve,” Danny says, and his voice is low and uneven, fuck, and he can tell the second Steve figures out how turned on he is by how quickly Steve’s eyes darken, how he licks his lips. “You’re wearing this for me again, babe, we’re not damaging it.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, and he sounds wrecked, too, as Danny finally gets the dress unzipped all the way. Steve peels himself out of it, pulling the lace from his shoulders and shimmying the fabric down over his hips. Danny shoves him back onto the bed when the dress hits the top of Steve’s boots, reaching down and yanking it the rest of the way off.

True to his word, Steve’s wearing a pair of black lace panties, and it’s utterly indecent, the way the panties don’t hide the thick line of Steve’s cock, the way they seem to cup around his balls. Danny groans as he leans down to mouth at Steve through the panties, and Steve lets out a pretty amazing sound. Danny grins and snags the edge of the panties between his teeth, working them down with his mouth and his hand. He pulls back so he can maneuver them down over Steve’s boots, then leans back to take Steve in – flushed, hair perfectly mussed, eyes outlined with that smudgy pencil and highlighting shadow, lashes long and dark against his face.

“Fuck,” Danny chokes out, leaning back in to lick his way up Steve’s chest. He kisses Steve when he makes his way all the way up, wet and filthy, and Steve moans and clutches at Danny’s arms.

“Boots,” Steve pants when Danny breaks away. “Take them off, come on, let’s do this-”

Danny grins against Steve’s mouth. “Oh, no,” he says, nipping at Steve’s lips. “You’re leaving those on.”

Steve lets out a gloriously undignified sound, and Danny loves tearing that noise out of Steve, he really does. In fact, he thinks as he rolls his hips down into Steve’s, he’s going to count exactly how many times he can get Steve to make it tonight.

He has the feeling it’s going to be a lot.

  
\----  
For the curious:  
[Steve's dress](http://www.ioffer.com/i/sexy-black-lace-long-sleeve-cocktail-clubwear-dress-sml-206881908) and [his boots](http://www.sinfulshoes.com/junglekneehighboot-1.aspx?variation=36734) (the all-black ones, for visualisation purposes:D).


End file.
